


Secrets, Cupboards and Truth or Dare

by whatabeautifulmess



Category: Glee
Genre: Badboy!Blaine AU, M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabeautifulmess/pseuds/whatabeautifulmess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And how all of these contributed to Klaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secrets, Cupboards and Truth or Dare

Blaine was bored. Like, seriously bored. He didn't really know why he was sat in Rachel Berry's basement on a Friday, but there he was anyway. Puck had invited him, promising him booze and a good time; so far, only one of those promises had been kept, and the beer in his hand was an indicator as to which one.

Realistically, Blaine knew that he was only there because of Kurt, currently sitting with Tina Cohen-Chang and looking sexy as hell in a pair of sinfully tight jeans. It had also occurred to him that Kurt was really the reason he'd been invited to a Glee club party in the first place. Puck knew Blaine had been trying to get with Kurt for the best part of six months with little success.

Blaine glanced across at Kurt, winking when Kurt met his eyes. The taller flushed and looked away quickly, but a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Blaine was trying to decide whether or not to go and talk to Kurt when Puck announced that they were going to play Truth or Dare, and it was compulsory. Blaine grinned as he joined the circle, though he was slightly surprised that Puck knew what compulsory actually meant.

Once everyone was seated, Puck started the game and picked Santana first. He looked at her intently, seemingly trying to communicate her telepathically. Blaine wished him luck with that.

After a minute, Santana seemed to understand and nodded. She said, "Dare."

"Okay…I dare you to…switch clothes with Berry."

Rachel protested loudly and shrilly, but no one paid any attention to her. Santana grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the room. They returned a few minutes later with Rachel wearing a red, skin-tight dress, whilst Santana sported a lacy, lemon-yellow concoction. Someone wolf-whistled. Santana glared at them and the whistle died on their lips.

"Shut up. All right…Anderson, truth or dare?" Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Blaine.

"…Dare," Blaine said slowly, trying to work out what she was trying to tell him.

"I dare you to go into the cupboard and make out with Hummel for seven minutes."

Oh. That's what she was trying to tell him. He grinned and said, "My pleasure."

Kurt protested weakly, but Blaine heard a tremor of excitement in his voice.

"Babe, shh," he said softly, grabbing Kurt's hand. "C'mon." Kurt allowed himself to be pulled along gently behind Blaine and the cupboard door clicked softly shut behind the, enveloping them in darkness.

Kurt launched himself at Blaine, kissing him passionately, dragging his mouth along Blaine's neck and jaw as Blaine held him tight.

"Do you…do you think we should tell them?" Kurt gasped.

"Tell them what?"

"That their efforts to get us together are pointless because we've already been going out for a month."

"Oh, that….Nah."


	2. These Masks of Ours

"So. Hummel."

Kurt turned around to see Blaine Anderson staring at him, his hazel eyes smoulderingly seductive and his arms folded across his broad chest in his leather jacket.

It was the leather jacket that really swung things. It was just so damn…clichéd. Even if it did fit him really well.

"What do you want, Anderson?"

"Oh, I want lots of things," Blaine said, smirking. "You're top of the list right now, though."

This kind of made Kurt's insides feel fizzy and he had to work to supress a shiver of excitement. He held his ground, though. Much as he might want Blaine (probably about as much as Blaine wanted him), Kurt knew that he wasn't good for him. He was bad news, with the jacket and the smoking and the rumours of fights and expulsions. It wouldn't work; couldn't work, despite the faint hints of a compassionate, intelligent, funny boy underneath the mask. It was a façade, was all, just an act. But first impressions are important, and Kurt's dad would have another heart attack if he came home with a boy who rode a motorcycle.

"Now, you see, that's part of the problem," Kurt said, trying very hard to stare Blaine down, but not really succeeding. "You want me _right now_. That's all – instant gratification. And once I cave and do…whatever it is you want me for, you'll drop me and move on. Find someone else. I don't want that." Kurt sighed, leaning the side of his head against his locker. "I could really, really like you," he whispered, "I just want more than you're offering."

Blaine frowned as Kurt finished speaking, still looking at him intently but with a softer expression in his eyes. Once more like…affection, rather than just lust.

"Why do you think I don't want that too?" he asked.

"Well, it's quite obvious. Your reputation…"

"Is a lie," Blaine said. "I'm a virgin. I've never had a boyfriend. But I want one."

"Why did you lie?"

"Same reason I dress like some James Dean-wannabe and took up boxing: if people avoid you, they're less likely to try and break your ribs."

Listening to Blaine, Kurt realised that what he had done to protect himself was no different, really, to what Kurt had done. Blaine had created a bad boy persona for himself, conforming to every stereotype; Kurt had built up a wall of bitchy, sarcastic words and cut himself of from anyone he wasn't certain he could trust.

"I do like you, Kurt. I don't just want…sex, or whatever it is you're thinking."

"Okay," Kurt said. "I…understand now, I think."

Blaine grinned. "Good…Because I _do_ want you."

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you?" Kurt said angrily. "I was just thinking that you might be a decent human being and that I would say yes if you asked me out, but then you went and said that."

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry. Force of habit. I don't just want you like that, and I hope you'll…still say yes to going out with me."

Blaine seemed so downhearted and vulnerable and so much more human than usual that Kurt saw a real glimpse of the boy Blaine actually was, rather than boy he pretended to be, and he found that he liked him more. (Even if the Blaine Anderson he usually saw was damn hot.)

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "Yes, I will go out with you. As long as I'm going out with _you_ , not the James Dean-wannabe. As nice as the leather jacket is, you're kind of a jerk when you act like that."

"I know – it's self-protection. If you're a dick, people don't want to talk to you. But I want to make an effort…I want to try. For you."

Kurt smiled, his stomach fluttering. "That's sweet. Who would have guessed that Blaine Anderson could be so…cute?"

"Don't tell anyone!" Blaine joked, making Kurt laugh. Seeing Blaine smile as his laugh rang out made Kurt move forward and press their lips together, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck. Blaine seemed startled at first, but soon responded more enthusiastically, kissing him hard. They broke apart after several long moments, still tangled up in each other in the deserted corridor.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So. You can pick me up tomorrow night at eight."

Blaine watched, open-mouthed, as Kurt walked away down the corridor. And no, he wasn't swinging his hips more than usual.

Not much, anyway.

 


	3. Differing Opinions

"Maybe we should…stop."

"Why? I've waited all day for this."

"Because your dad, Finn and Carole will be back any minute."

"Nope," Kurt said with a grin, pressing light kisses under Blaine's jaw. "Dad and Carole are going to D.C. tonight. They left before you got here. And Finn's 'staying the night at Puck's house'."

"So he's round Rachel's?" Blaine asked.

"Exactly. We have the house to ourselves."

"In that case then…" Blaine grinned mischievously, perfectly matching Kurt's expression, and rolled over on the couch so that he pinned Kurt into the cushions, straddling his hips.

"I think I like where this is going," Kurt murmured as Blaine sucked softly at his earlobe. Blaine didn't reply, instead choosing to continue his ministrations and endeavouring to leave bruises and bite marks on as many inches of Kurt's pale skin as possible.

He was still going strong, his tongue dipping into Kurt's bellybutton, when the doorbell rang.

"Kurt," called Finn's muffled voice, "can you let me in? I forgot my key."

"Shit," Kurt muttered. "You have to hide."

"What?"

"You have to hide!" Kurt hissed, pulling on one of the t-shirts that had fallen to the floor.

"Where? In your wardrobe?"

"Don't be silly, there's no room in my wardrobe." Finn knocked on the door again. "Hide in the bathroom!"

"But what if Finn goes in there?"

"Just go! He has his own!" Kurt said, shooing Blaine up the stairs. He hid in the behind the bathroom door, leaving it open to stop Finn becoming suspicious, just as Kurt opened the front door.

"Who were you talking to, Kurt?" Finn asked. It sounded like he was hanging up a coat.

"No one."

"I heard voices." It seemed like today was one of Finn's perceptive days.

"I was on the phone to Mercedes. On speaker phone. Why are you home?"

"Rachel kicked me out."

"Did you break up again?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God. Just…move on, Finn, please. I adore Rachel, truly I do, but this to-ing and fro-ing is driving everyone mad."

"I don't know, man…I love her." Finn's dejected-sounding voice became quieter as he moved away from the stairs, probably into the kitchen. Light footsteps indicated that Kurt was following him.

After what felt like several long moments, Kurt and Finn moved back into the living room, close enough to the stairs that Blaine could hear what they were saying.

"Kurt, whose shirt are you wearing?"

"Mine, obviously."

"But it's too small, and there's a hole in it."

"Shit," Blaine muttered, pressed against the wall behind the bathroom door.

"It's…it's an old shirt. I grew out of it."

"Oh. Okay."

Finn didn't seem inclined to pry anymore, and Blaine soon heard his footsteps on the stairs. He held his breath, certain that just that quiet sound would give him away. Finn walked right past the bathroom however, the door of his room clicking shut behind him.

Blaine decided that this would be a good moment to quietly extricate himself and creep back downstairs.

Kurt jumped when he noticed Blaine behind him. "Don't do that."

"You're wearing my shirt," Blaine said, rubbing the worn material between his thumb and forefinger. "I like it."

"Well, I'll have to keep it 'til Monday at least; even Finn'll notice something if I sit down to dinner with him wearing a different shirt without going upstairs to get one. "

"I wouldn't object to you keeping it."

"And I don't think I'll mind much either. You ought to put my shirt on, though, before you leave." One of Kurt's fingers idly traced Blaine's exposed collarbone.

"Kurt, do you know where I left my algebra textbook?" Finn shouted, barrelling down the stairs so fast that Blaine didn't even have the time to move a muscle. His arms were wrapped around Kurt's waist when Finn walked in, with Kurt's hands pressed against his bare chest.

"Kurt, have you- Oh. Um. Okay."

Kurt sighed. "Hello, Finn." He didn't even seem to want to try to come up with a story to explain why he was tucked up against Blaine Anderson's naked chest.

"You – what – Anderson?"

"Yes, Finn."

"But you hate him!"

Kurt just raised his eyebrows.

"Well, okay, no, but…how long has this been going on?"

"And do you really think that's any of your business?" Kurt asked, turning around in Blaine's arms to glare at his step-brother.

Finn stuttered incoherently for a moment. "I'll tell Burt!" he said. "He won't like it, Blaine rides a motorbike."

Kurt folded his arms. "Right, you'll tell my dad about me dating Blaine, and then I'll tell him that you've been sneaking around behind his and your mom's backs to have sex with Rachel."

Finn blanched, turning white. Kurt smiled smugly, seemingly confident that he'd gotten the better of him.

"I don't like him," Finn said petulantly. "He keeps looking at you like he wants to eat you. And he looks at your ass all the time."

"I'm dating him; why would that be a problem?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"I'm not asking you to like him," Kurt continued, "I'm asking you to shut up and go away."

Finn grumbled a little more, but in the end he darted into the living room pretty quickly. Blaine turned Kurt around, pulling him closer.

"You're quite scary when you're angry," he said.

"Oh really?"

"Yes. It's very sexy." Kurt let out a high-pitched giggle as Blaine mouthed along his jaw.

"Excuse me!" Finn shouted. "I can still hear you!"


	4. Fight

One moment, Blaine was standing next to his locker, waiting for Kurt. He probably could have been getting the books he needed for tonight's homework out of it, but that presupposed that he was actually going to _do_ tonight's homework.

Next thing he knew, he was being pushed into the locker, his nose sliding painfully against the rough slits in the metal.

"What the fuck?"

"Anderson," Karofsky said, his fists balled up menacingly, "what's this I hear about you screwing Kurt around?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I heard he pushed you away at lunchtime and ended up crying in the bathroom."

"You idiot," Blaine snarled, his lip curled. "Kurt was crying because he's fucking sick of whatever stunts you keep pulling to stop all your football douchebags from working out that you're gay. He pushed me away because he didn't want me to see him crying, not because I _made_ him cry." Blaine's eyes narrowed. "He wouldn't even let me beat the crap out of you for it. God knows why; he's too good to you."

Karofsky made a deep rough sound that was almost a growl. "You think you're so tough, with your motorcycle and all that shit, but Kurt'll get sick of it soon enough."

"Well, I'm sure he'll give a call if he suddenly decides he wants some ugly-as-fuck guy whose favourite hobby is slamming his face into the lockers," Blaine said with a bitter laugh.

"He belongs with _me_!" Karofsky yelled, slamming his fist into the lockers.

"Back the fuck off if you like having all your limbs, Karofsky," Blaine said, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Kurt is _mine_. He chose me, and if you think he's going to go for you if he changes his mind, then you're delusional." Blaine narrowed his eyes even further, staring Karofsky down. Eventually the older boy growled again and pushed Blaine roughly back into the cold metal behind him before storming off down the corridor.


	5. Jealous

"He's looking at you again."

"Hmmm?" Kurt says, looking up from his book with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"He's looking at you again."

"Who's looking at me?"

"Karofsky," Blaine says, and his voice is almost a growl. Kurt flicks his eyes to him, looking wary.

"And?"

"And he's looking at you like he wants to fucking  _eat_ you." Blaine glares across the cafeteria at Karofsky, crowding closer to Kurt and wrapping an arm possessively around his waist. Kurt puts down his fork as he relaxes back into his touch, knowing that Blaine had felt jealous and insecure ever since Karofsky returned to McKinley. He has propositioned Kurt more than once, and every time Blaine stormed away after slamming his locker closed, disappearing to thump moodily at the piano in the choir room until Kurt found him and coaxed a smile from him with kisses.

"You know you don't have to worry, don't you?" he says. "You know I love you, and even if I didn't, no way would I ever go out with Karofsky."

"You might want to make that clear to him."

Kurt sighs. "I have, Blaine. What else can I do, I've tried everything."

Blaine grinned, suddenly mischievous. "I know something you haven't tried," he says, pulling Kurt close to him. His eyes are dark as he leans forward and captures Kurt's lips in a passionate kiss.

Kurt can't help tangling his fingers in the curls at the nape of Blaine's neck as he kisses back fiercely. He should be used to Blaine's kisses by now, but every one felt like the first, making Kurt's heart race and heat curl in his stomach -

A feeling that is suddenly and uncomfortably quenched as Puck and Sam pelt them with grapes. Someone – almost certainly Santana – wolf-whistles.

"Get a room, you two," she drawls, smirking broadly.

"Seriously, guys, we're trying to eat," Finn says, looking uncomfortable. "Save it for some time I can't see, please?"

Kurt glares at Finn, who shrinks backwards, but Blaine just grins as Karofsky stalks past them, scowling.

"Looks like we made our point."


	6. Introductions

Kurt sighed. This year was going to be torture. He could have sworn he'd signed up for AP French; AP, last time he had checked, stood for Advanced Placement. He must have been mistaken, however, since so far Kurt's only classmates were Azimio, some imbeciles from the hockey team, and a handful of the more vacuous cheerleaders. Senior year was going well so far. Not.

The rest of the class turned up in dribs and drabs until every chair but one was filled, and the teacher entered as the bell rang.

"Bonjour, classe," the teacher said, and Kurt sighed, feeling as though he wanted to bang his head against his desk. If they were going to stick him in a class full of idiots, the administration could at least have given them a decent teacher. Mrs McDonald was infamous for her apathy and complete inability to control a class. This was just going from bad to worse.

About fifteen minutes into the lesson, halfway through an explanation of when to use the subjunctive (dear God; it's not hard. If you're expressing doubt, you use the subjunctive!), the door opened and a boy walked in.

He caught everyone's attention immediately, especially Kurt's. For one thing, he was pretty gorgeous, with clear, tanned skin stretched over defined muscles; bright hazel eyes; and a head of dark curls. He didn't smile or apologise as he tossed a piece of paper to the teacher and took the only spare seat.

Next to Kurt.

Mrs McDonald stood still for a moment, flummoxed, before deciding that there was no point in arguing with the boy, and continued with the lesson.

Kurt was vaguely aware of the boy looking at him, but he ignored him, pretending to take notes. As attractive as the boy was, a closer look had told him that he was probably trouble. He looked even more stereotypically 'bad-ass' (and Kurt snorted a little as he thought that) than Puck. Puck was a softy deep down, but this boy seemed...dangerous. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, Kurt could see scratches on his knuckles and a faint scar on his forearm.

But he was pretty, very pretty, and there was no harm in looking, right? Kurt might as well make the most of it if he was going to be sitting next to this miscreant for the rest of the year.

A piece of paper landed on his desk. Kurt unfolded it and read it quickly before crumpling it up and shoving it into his bag.

He made sure Mrs McDonald wasn't paying attention before he turned to the boy and whispered, "I have no interest in going out with you. You don't know my name. I don't know your name."

The boy looked stunned, as if no one had ever turned him down before, but the look quickly faded, replaced by a cocky smirk. "Kurt Hummel."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your name's Kurt Hummel."

"And how do you know?"

The boy's smirk widened. "It's on your folder," he said. "And my name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Now you can go out with me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Now, you see, I really am sorry to shatter all your dreams or whatever, but I'm not in the habit of dating anyone as arrogant as you." He turned back to the front, trying yo concentrate on the lesson.

Another sneaky sideways glance told him that, inexplicably, Blaine was still smiling.

"Whatever you say, Kurt," Kurt heard him murmur. "Whatever you say..."

Kurt felt his lips twitch and bit down to stop himself from smiling.

Maybe this year would be so bad after all.


	7. Distractions

Kurt found it quite difficult to concentrate for the rest of the lesson, knowing that Blaine Anderson's eyes were on him constantly. It sort of irritated him, actually: both that Blaine was staring and that it had such a noticeable effect on Kurt – his cheeks were tinged pink for the remainder of the hour, and it was impossible for him to focus on Mrs McDonald's voice – not that he really needed to pay attention in this class, fortunately. Better he daydream about the feel of lips, hard and unyielding against his own, and the faint, tangy scent of raspberries now that in a class where he needed to concentrate. Like Math.

It was something of a relief when the bell rang and he was able to leave, just so that he could get away from it all (and he hadn't realised quite how much he loved raspberries until, oh, about forty-five minutes ago, actually).

But no such luck. Halfway down the corridor to his locker, a strong arm wrapped itself around his waist, pressing warm and heavy against his hip.

“Hi babe.”

Kurt flinched, recognising Blaine's voice and the sharp smell that accompanied him, fruitiness overlaid with coffee. He wriggled out of Blaine's grip.

“What do you want, Anderson?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, babe.”

“So you're thinking with your dick, then,” Kurt said dismissively.

“Oh, but it's so happy to see you, baby...” Blaine smirked as Kurt shuddered, trying to squirm away again when Blaine's arm snaked its way back around his waist. He didn't succeed, however, and Blaine's hand anchored itself in Kurt's back pocket.

“You're disgusting, you know that?”

“Aw, baby, you don't really think that.” Blaine squeezed Kurt's ass to make his point clear.

Kurt prided himself on the fact that he remembered calm enough to remove Blaine's hand from his pocket before storming away. It was a very good storming out; Rachel would have been impressed, had she seen it.

“Stay away form me, Anderson,” Kurt called over his shoulder as he walked away. He didn't turn around to see how Blaine reacted. Doing so would mean he cared, and he didn't.

He _didn't_.


	8. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Klaine Week 2013, since today's theme is badboy!Klaine.

Blaine didn't remember ever making this much effort for a boy. _Ever_. He'd brushed his hair and gelled it down, ditched the leather jacket and replaced it with a bow tie he found in his drawer. He thought his grandmother had bought it for him for his 16 th birthday, but he'd never worn it. Kurt loved them, though, and it _was_ a nice bow tie – perfect for making the perfect first impression with Kurt's dad.

Blaine had also made sure to leave the motorcycle at home, borrowing his mom's car instead. He already knew just what Burt Hummel thought about motorbikes.

He rang the doorbell, bouncing on the balls of his feet. But he wasn't nervous; he _wasn't_.

Finn was the one to open the door, eyeing Blaine furtively. Blaine rocked back on his heels, on the defensive, but Kurt darted under Finn's arm before Blaine had a chance to do anything reckless.

Kurt pecked him on the cheek, then turned and glared at Finn until he ambled off.

“You look very nice,” he said, looking Blaine up and down appraisingly. “Not really like you, but still nice.”

Blaine smoothed his black shirt with his hands. “I thought I'd make an effort.”

“I appreciate it,” Kurt said. “So will my dad.” He leant forwards, lips against Blaine's ear. “And you still look really hot.”

“Of course I do. As do you,” Blaine said softly, tilting his head to mouth along Kurt's jaw. Kurt giggled, pushing Blaine off of him.

“No, come on, my dad wants to meet you before we go out.

Right. Okay. Blaine allowed Kurt to take his hand and tug him into the living room, tripping along on his tiptoes. He could totally do this. Totally.

He so couldn't do this.

Burt Hummel looked his up and down, just as his son had done – but unlike Kurt, Burt's eyes were hard and he was completely unsmiling.

“All right...Blaine, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir. Blaine Anderson, sir.”

“Right. So, where are you takin' Kurt tonight?” Blaine could hear the suspicion in Burt's tone, and could only that he had heard stories about Blaine from Finn. He pursed his lips, more determined than ever to prove that he was good enough for Kurt.

“It's...supposed to be a surprise, sir, since I know how much Kurt loves them, even if he says he doesn't.” Blaine bit his lip on a grin as Kurt elbowed him in the side, rolling his eyes. “But I can tell you if you want to make sure it's safe. I promise it is though.” Blaine hadn't actually been polite to authority figures in about a year and a half, but it wasn't so bad. He couldn't understand why everyone was so worried about meeting the parents.

Burt narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to match up the boy in front of him with the stories he'd heard.

“No...no, I guess that's fine. Don't want to spoil anything. You two have a good time, then.”

Blaine grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Burt, kid,” Burt said gruffly. Blaine's sideways glance at Kurt's face told him this was a pretty big deal.

As Carole took over the bulk of the conversation, asking Kurt questions about how he had met Blaine (the answers to which Kurt edited heavily, Blaine noticed vaguely. Probably just as well), Blaine felt himself relax against Kurt's side. He thought he might actually be all right at this talking to parents thing. Burt hadn't even suspected that Blaine planned to get at least half an hour of make-out time in the back of his mom's car before he took Kurt home.


	9. Aftermath Part One

Blaine’s tongue was carefully tracing the contours and dips of Kurt’s ear, breath warm on the lobe, when there was an obnoxiously loud knock on the door of the cupboard.

“Anderson, bro, your time’s up,” called Puck’s voice. “I tried stalling for you, but the others wouldn’t have it.”

Blaine ignored Puck, nipping at Kurt’s ear and making him groan. Someone - probably Puck; almost certainly Puck, in fact - whistled shrilly. Someone else banged even harder on the door.

“Anderson,” Santana yelled, “as happy as I am that you’re finally getting your gay on with Virgin Princess Hummel, you needs to get the hell out of there.”

Blaine pulled back from the crook of Kurt’s neck to shout, “Why the fuck should I?”

“Because Britts and I want to get our mack on too, and if you don’t come out by yourself, we’re opening this door whether your pants are on or not.”

Kurt’s eyes snapped open at that, and he pushed himself away from Blaine’s mouth and hands.

“They can’t know,” he hissed. “Open the door!”

Blaine felt his stomach twist up in knots, which was ridiculous. He didn’t want everyone to know he was dating Kurt any more than Kurt did. He didn’t…did he?

Okay, perhaps he did. Every time Kurt acted like there was nothing going on between them, it felt like Blaine was being punched in the stomach.

He wasn’t very good at saying no to Kurt, though, so he made a attempt to smooth his clothes but gave up rather quickly, made sure that Kurt was presentable (because these things were more important to Kurt), and opened the door.

The New Directions were all crowded around the cupboard door, looking far too interested for anyone’s good. Puck gave Blaine the once-over, eyes flicking up and down his body, and grinned, punching Blaine’s arm lightly.

“I’m impressed, dude. I guess Hummel was worth all the effort you put in.”

Blaine schooled his features into a cocky smirk and shrugged. “It was all right, I s’ppose,” he said nonchalantly. “Didn’t let me do much more than kiss him though.” Which was a lie, but a necessary one. At least, it was in Kurt’s eyes, and what was important to Kurt was important to Blaine.

“Those hickeys tell a different story, hobbit,” Santana said, bright, glittering, wicked eyes zeroing in on the marks and bruises littering Kurt’s neck. “Did you scream, Hummel?”

Kurt scoffed loudly and pushed past the crowd to sit down on the sofa in the corner. “Whatever, Lopez. It’s not like it’ll ever happen again.”

Blaine winced and looked down, wondering why that hurt so much.


	10. Aftermath Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In terms of order for this 'verse, this follows on from chapter nine, and would be followed by chapter three.

_Do you want to come over tonight? I'm home alone._

Blaine sighed as he read Kurt's text, flipping onto his back on his bed as he contemplated not replying. But that wouldn't make Kurt leave him alone, which was what he wanted, so he really had to text Kurt back.

_**Can't, sorry. Family thing.** _

_Bullshit. Your parents are on that cruise and Cooper's not coming home until Thanksgiving._

Blaine tossed his phone down on the duvet beside him, praying that Kurt wouldn't text him again.

Except, of course, he did.

_I'm coming over. See you in 15._

Blaine knew there was nothing he could do to dissuade Kurt now that he'd made up his mind. (And, if he was really, truly honest with himself, he didn't actually want to. Sure, he was hiding in his room like a child, refusing to see his boyfriend, but that was mostly because he didn't want to be the one to start this conversation. He wanted Kurt to fight for him.) All he could do was wait for the doorbell to ring.

It did so fourteen and a half minutes later (Kurt was always, always, always punctual, after all). Kurt followed Blaine up to his room in silence after he answered the door, his footsteps light on the stairs.

They sat down on the bed, looking at one another in silence for several long, drawn-out moments before Kurt spoke.

“Why did you lie?”

Blaine just shrugged, and Kurt clenched his fist around Blaine's bedspread.

“What is going on with you? You've barely spoken to me since Rachel's party last weekend.”

“It's nothing, Kurt. Leave it, please?”

“No. Something must have happened that night, you were fine when we were playing Seven Minutes in -” Kurt stopped suddenly. “Oh. Oh, _Blaine_.”

“What?” Blaine snapped.

“Is that what this is about?” Kurt asked. “Are you upset that my friends don't know we're dating? Because you told me not to tell them!”

Blaine mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.

“I'm sorry, what was that?”

“I said, 'I didn't tell you to act like you hated me, either'!”

Kurt was silent. Blaine froze, not believing what he'd just said, before backing away from Kurt.

“Kurt...I didn't...I don't -”

“ _God_ , Blaine, I'm so sorry,” Kurt burst out, and Blaine glanced up out of his lap to see that Kurt was crying. “I'm sorry, I never should have made you feel like that! I was just trying to make sure they didn't suspect anything...”

“You didn't mean it, it's fine...”

“No, it _isn't_. God, I'm an awful boyfriend. The worst.” Kurt all but threw himself at Blaine, burrowing against his chest and squeezing tightly. 

“Do you want me to tell them? I will if you want: everyone in Glee, my parents, whoever you want.”

Blaine didn't know when the tables had turned, but Kurt was the one needing comfort now. Blaine stroked softly at his shoulders and down his back, more than willing to provide it; it was just nice – no, _wonderful_ – to know that Kurt was going to fight for him. 

“Hey, don't worry about it so much. You can tell whoever you want, whenever you want. I just needed you to start this conversation so I -”

_So I don't seem clingy._

_So I know you want this as much as I do._

_So I know you love me too._

Blaine couldn't bring himself to actually say any of those things, but Kurt seemed to understand him nonetheless.

“Of course I do,” he murmured into Blaine's jumper. “Of course, of course, of course.”

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt as they continued to just hold one another. He dropped a kiss on the top of Kurt's head, smiling against his hair. As eager as Blaine was to have the world know that he was Kurt's and Kurt was his, he was willing to wait. Kurt was worth it.


	11. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this wee 'verse. I've lost inspiration and motivation with it, but I tried to round it off as neatly as I could in one chapter. It's far from my best, but I hope you still enjoy it.

“So you're sure?” Kurt pursed his lips and frowned worriedly, but Blaine smiled and squeezed Kurt's hand.

“Yes,” he said. “I know what I'm doing, Kurt. I'm fine with everyone knowing. But are you?”

Kurt huffed a sigh and wrung his hands together. “Yes, I want to do this; I know we _need_ to do this – it's not fair on you otherwise. And Finn knows now, anyway. The only reason he hasn't blabbed yet is because I threatened to tell my dad and Carole that he's been sneaking around with Rachel. I'm just – I don't know, projecting my anxieties onto you.” 

Blaine gave a soft smile and pulled Kurt into his lap. “It'll be fine, Kurt, I promise. They're your friends, right?”

“And yours,” Kurt said quietly. Blaine shook his head.

“Nah. Not really. Puck, sure, but all the others can see is this.” He gestured briefly to his wild curls, leather jacket, scratched knuckles.

“No, you've been around enough the last month or so that they've kind of...accepted you. They've told me that they want to get to know you better,” Kurt insisted. “Artie wants to talk about music, and Tina about...hair dye or piercings or something, I don't know. Rachel wants to duet with you again, after you sang with her at that party, and Santana...well, you'd know if Santana didn't like you.”

“She does nothing but insult me,” Blaine pointed out.

“Like you do any different. Besides, it's just how she shows love,” Kurt said airily, waving a hand and leaning back into Blaine's chest a little. They were sitting together in an empty classroom during their free period before Glee. They ought to have been in the library, really, but Blaine had grabbed Kurt's arm as he was leaving his AP English class and dragged him along the hall into this classroom before kissing him soundly.

“That's not the point, though,” Kurt continued. “The point is, you're one of us now, Blaine Anderson. One of the nerdy little Glee club. How d'you feel about _that_?”

Blaine laughed and gently pushed Kurt off of his lap as the bell rang. “I think we should go and tell them that we're dating so they can get on with threatening me already.”

Kurt can't even deny that it's true.

*

Mr Schue wasn't there yet when Kurt and Blaine arrived in the choir room. Probably just as well; he always looked faintly bemused y the constant club drama, and it would be easier to spill the beans without him watching.

Rachel stood up immediately when Kurt walked in with Blaine on his heels.

“Is Blaine going to be auditioning?” she asked. “I've been preparing a few songs that I feel will really suit our voices and show off our talent to the best advantage. I actually have some in my bag, I'll just -”

“Rachel, stop,” Kurt said, interrupting her. “Blaine will audition if and when he wants to, I'm sure, but we're here to tell you something.”

“It's important,” Blaine added. Without his carefully-crafted mask, which he was trying to wear less often, Blaine was quieter even in the places where he felt most comfortable but the choir room – that was Kurt's domain, and Blaine didn't quite feel at ease there yet. He would do one day – he wanted to be as much a part of Kurt's life as he could – but for the moment he was distinctly aware that he didn't quite fit.

Santana scoffed loudly from the back of the room; when Blaine looked at her, she was idly filing her nails, looking bored. Blaine felt Kurt bristle beside him.

“Anything to say, Santana?” Kurt snapped.

“You hardly need to waltz in and announce that you're fucking. Anyone with eyes can tell that.”

Artie, of all people, nodded. “You're not that subtle, guys. Like, at all.”

“It was quite obvious at my party last month,” Rachel added. “You spent all evening giving each other these _looks_.”

“And even just last Monday,” Quinn chimed in, “you wore that scarf, Kurt, looking like the cat who got the cream.” There were several nods from around the room.

“So let me get this straight,” Kurt said, hand on his hip. “You all knew except Finn. All of you, all this time.”

“Everyone said, “Yes” at the same time.

“And you let us carry on in 'secret',” Kurt curled his fingers into quotation marks in the air, “for more than a month?”

When Kurt put it like that, Blaine couldn't help laughing. Kurt glanced at him sharply.

“I mean, think about it, Kurt,” Blaine bit out between giggles. “Next thing, they'll being telling us they had a bet on when we'd tell them.”

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Oh, don't tell me you _do_ ,” Kurt groaned. He leant his forehead against the side of Blaine's head. “Why am I friends with them?” he whispered, but he laughed quietly along with Blaine.

“Who won?” Blaine asked Puck, who was sitting closest to Kurt and Blaine in the front row.

“Rachel,” Puck grumbled. Rachel smiled sweetly and held out her hand. Puck dug around in his pocket and pulled out ten dollars, giving it to her with a scowl. Santana, Quinn, Artie, Tina and Sam all did the same.

“Really, Rachel?” Kurt said disbelievingly. 

“I'm sorry, Kurt,” she said, slipping her winnings into her purse. “I tried to tell them that we're better than that, but they wouldn't listen and, well, I figured, if you can't beat them, join them.”

Kurt watched her carefully for several moments. Blaine didn't think he was actually angry – they'd probably laugh about it later – but he couldn't quite tell. Eventually, though, Kurt smiled, so sweetly that it was slightly unnerving.

“Since we indirectly earned you all this money, Rachel, I think the least you can do is buy us some coffee. What do you say?”

Rachel was still gaping at Kurt when Mr Schuester eventually arrived.


End file.
